


Act II: No. 11, Allegro Moderato (sortie du prince)

by Mithrigil



Category: Swan Lake (Bourne)
Genre: Ballet, M/M, Meta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-24
Updated: 2010-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 01:23:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/143805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithrigil/pseuds/Mithrigil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We know why the Prince loves the Swan--but why would the Swan love the Prince?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Act II: No. 11, Allegro Moderato (sortie du prince)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Beckymonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beckymonster/gifts).



He is the most swan-like human Odet has ever seen; a juvenile, or a very little older than one, with white swaddling all through and tall black feet. The human is sitting on the food bench, but he doesn’t have any food with him, and Odet is somewhat resentful. It is late at night, but someone could come by with food, perhaps the old lady with the bright plumage, who always has good bread to eat, and if the old lady came by with food and the swan-like human was sitting on the food bench, perhaps the old lady would not feed Odet at all.

Odet has half a mind to tell the swan-like human he should leave the food bench if he doesn’t have any food. He ruffles his wings and sticks out his neck, and marches out of the park lake, entirely prepared to give the human a piece of his mind.

The human gets up from the food bench on his own, though, and staggers, as if he’s sick and can’t walk, can’t fly. Odet backs away and nearly loses his footing in the grass. The human, it seems, is making a run for the water.

Humans have killed themselves in the park lake before. Odet has seen it. They pretend they’re swans, and they forage for things they’ve lost, and they come up to the surface bloated and dead. Odet thinks them all very foolish. They are nothing like swans, not the swans aren’t foolish sometimes, but humans who pretend to be swans are as foolish as swans who pretend to be humans and just because this human is foolish does not mean he should kill himself. It is always sad and crowded when they do, and Odet and his brothers have to leave the lake.

So before the human can set foot in the lake, Odet charges him.

Odet is strong, stronger than all of his brothers, and his wings spread as wide as the human is tall. The human shouts and staggers back, away from the lake, and so Odet keeps yelling at him, calls him selfish and foolish and thoughtless. He chases the human until he falls down and scuttles away. Good.

But then the human is gaping at him, all open and pale, and Odet stops to look.

This man truly is more like a swan than any other human Odet has ever seen. Not only is his plumage all white, except his tall feet and the dark tuft on his head; his eyes are heavy and wet, and he looks almost as if he could be able to fly.

How dare he! Odet has always been taught that if humans could fly, they would ruin everything. Bad enough that they have taken over most of the land and poisoned the grass and fenced in the park lake, now this one wants to fly? Odet snaps at him and mows him down, and that should scare him off for good.

It doesn’t. The man reaches out one of his arms—they’re long and thin, more like necks than wings—and advances on Odet, not like he wants to fly, but like he wants to touch.

Odet doesn’t know what to think of that. It’s usually cause for biting and running away, but if a man with the eyes of a swan is trying to touch him, and move like him, maybe he was a swan all along.

It feels true. Odet dances, and the man follows him, arching his long human legs and spindly arms because he doesn’t have wings to sweep. It’s strange, and oddly beautiful, because humans dance with their legs instead of their wings and their necks, so everything seems longer and thinner. When Odet has knocked the man down, his brothers begin to flock to the grass, wondering what all the commotion is, so Odet flies off a short way.

The man wants to be a swan. The way he looks at not just Odet, but Odet’s brothers, says this as clear as water. He _is_ a swan, somewhere in that body. The thought is terrifying. If a swan can be trapped as a human, and can’t fly, can’t swim, can’t speak, how can he live among other humans?

No wonder he wanted to run himself into the lake.

When the man doesn’t run away, even at the sight of Odet and all of Odet’s brothers clustered to attack him, Odet feels something like sickness rise in his heart. He is afraid—and so is the human, which makes Odet even warier—and yet he cannot look away. It should be pathetic, it should be ridiculous, but Odet cannot force himself to think so. This strange, shivering man, leaving himself open to the jeering and battering of Odet’s brothers, still watches and still reaches and still wants. The man endures their insults, and chases them as they fly off, spreading his arms and wheeling through the grass, and Odet remembers what it was like, for him, to watch from the ground while his mother and father flew. So when Odet’s brothers go too far, and begin to tear at the man’s plumage and carry him away, Odet calls them off.

“He is one of us,” Odet says. He wonders if the human understands.

The man dances with Odet alone, and strokes his quarters, with his hands instead of his bill. Odet gives back the best he can, the caress of his jaw and forehead on the man’s chest, and the look of ecstasy on the man’s face is not strange at all. Odet touches him, again and again, in as many places as he can, until he can see the man’s dark eyes striving for the sky.

When the man whirls back through the park, salt tears drying on his cheeks, he nearly flies. Odet soars above him, and follows him through the human streets, and vows to bring the man back to the lake. _This time,_ Odet decides, _I will not stop him from trying to be what he is._


End file.
